


Pig in a poke (a remix of Tuesdays)

by Chiomi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bullying, M/M, Teen Wolf Remix 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-06
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:35:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiomi/pseuds/Chiomi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has issues with Fuckwit Dan; Derek's approach to problem-solving is more than welcome.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pig in a poke (a remix of Tuesdays)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysBoth/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Tuesdays](https://archiveofourown.org/works/913558) by [Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlwaysBoth/pseuds/Wolftraps). 



> I apologize for the gratuitous Supernatural reference in the title, but I couldn't _not_.

Tuesdays are the best. Since there’s no practice (and barring supernatural crisis), Stiles actually gets to finish all his homework and jerk off super leisurely before the weekly raids with his Rift guild. This Tuesday has been slightly marred by Fuckwit Dan’s continued conviction that being a sleazy asshole will get him a date, and by Stiles having to firmly tell him that it’s never going to happen and he should back off, but it’s not like Stiles doesn’t have any experience being a jerk when it’s necessary. Okay, and sometimes when it’s not necessary.

Being asked out - again - by someone who sets off his evil-detection sense totally counts as necessary, though, he tells himself as he opens his locker. And it’s not like Dan did anything to prove Stiles’ sense wrong with the way he reacted.

"You want me to kick his ass?" Isaac asks, lounging against the bank of lockers.

Stiles rolls his eyes, because of course at least one werewolf heard the whole thing. Aren’t they supposed to not listen in on things that happen in the boy’s bathroom? Wouldn’t they tune that out as a matter of self-preservation? "No, I don't want you to kick his ass," he says. "Look, he's just being a dick. It's nothing I can't handle."

"You're sure?"

"Yes. Now go stalk Scott or something. Your sudden protective streak is giving me the creeps. Besides, I've had worse from you." It’s true, too, and Isaac’s insults tend to have more truth in them than ‘uptight fucking virgin who thinks he’s too good for anyone even when he’s literally begging for it.’

"Yeah. But that's different. You're pack. I don't mean any of it." Isaac shrugs. "Later, loser."

Isaac takes off down the hall, and Stiles starts organizing his books so he doesn’t take home anything he doesn’t have to.

"Stilinski!" comes Dan’s depressingly familiar voice. Stiles glances over: he’s found other guys on the team who don’t like Stiles much and made himself a pack of them. "Can't even get Lahey to fuck you, huh? Tough break, man."

"Wow, Dan, your empathy is touching," Stiles says, packing in as much sarcasm as he can. "But I can't even begin to tell you how much time I don't have to waste talking to you."

"Why?" Dan asks. "Not like you've got a hot date." He says it like he’s never asked Stiles out, or like he thinks he’s the only hot date Stiles could ever get. Like he thinks he’s a hot date at all, and not an insecure asshole. The thing of it is that people are idiots, so the guys with him laugh along: Greenberg a little too loud until he’s told to shut up.

Stiles puts on his best unimpressed face, which basically means trying to channel Derek and his eyebrows.

"Oh come on, Stilinski," Dan says, and gets in his personal space. Stiles doesn’t give ground, because basically everyone he knows is scarier than Dan: he makes Dan shove him back against the lockers physically. It doesn’t actually hurt. "Laugh a bit!"

"Tell you what, let's make a deal," Stiles grits out. Just because he gets worse from people he actually likes doesn’t mean he enjoys being shoved around. "You start being funny, and then I'll laugh."

"And maybe if you took the stick out of your ass, someone would finally shove their dick up there. You’re always making eyes at Mahealani or sniffing around Lydia Martin. It's pathetic. You've been friend-zoned, man. Give it up."

"Okay, first of all, only douchebags use 'friend zone.' Second, just because you've never seen me with anyone doesn't mean I'm not with someone." Stiles hates himself a little even as it’s coming out of his mouth. Next thing he says is totally going to be about his girlfriend who lives in Canada. Fuck everything. He shoves Dan away from him, hard. Dan ends up taking a couple steps back, because Stiles is stronger than he looks now, and no one ever expects it. He thinks for a minute that the pause in the crowd is out of surprise, but no one’s looking at him.

"There you are," comes a familiar voice, and Stiles snaps around to look at what the hell Derek is doing there. He usually lurks outside like a creeper when he waits for Isaac. But here he is, stripped down to a wifebeater and his fake, luminescent smile, bearing down on Stiles. "I've been waiting for you for five minutes. You know I hate waiting."

What? Derek’s already leaning way into his personal space by the time Stiles catches on to what’s happening. Oh my God, Derek’s actually helping him with the whole fake significant other cover story. Derek is his goddamned hero. Derek arches one eyebrow inquisitively, and - oh. Yeah. Stiles nods and convulsively licks his lips.

Derek kisses him. Werewolves run hot, and Derek’s mouth is no exception. His lips and tongue are hot wet perfection, and Stiles shoves a hand into his hair to keep him where he is. Derek bites down on his lip, and it’s like an electric current: Stiles’ hips and dick both twitch, and he’s pressed forward against Derek’s gorgeous body. He makes a probably-embarrassing noise, but Derek just keeps kissing him. Stiles goes for broke and grabs his ass, because Derek has a perfect fucking ass, and isn’t going to beat him to death in front of this many witnesses. So he’s gonna carpe diem. Carpe gluteum?

Derek pulls away at that, and Stiles feels robbed. A low, mortifyinging whine escapes him. Thankfully no one seems to hear but Derek, and he’s, huh, not walking away. Or - yeah, but he’s grabbed Stiles’ hand. Stiles is grinning, and probably looks dopey as hell, but can’t seem to stop, and doesn’t really want to. Especially when he catches sight of Dan’s face, Dan who looks stumped and kind of gutted. It’s sweet.

Derek drags him out to the car, opens the door like Stiles is his prom date or something, and gets in the other side.

They sit there.

"I didn't grab any of my homework," Stiles says, and he’d hate himself a little for still sounding dazed and out of breath, except that Derek hasn’t started the car and it’s been like a full minute.

"Text Scott to get it for you," Derek says. He sounds strained, and his knuckles are white on the steering wheel.

Something else occurs to him. "Weren't you supposed to get Isaac?"

"Text Scott for that too. Tell him to stay away from the apartment." Derek finally seems to remember that he needs to turn the car on to make it go.

Stiles can feel himself grinning again. Maybe still? It’s a fantastic fucking afternoon. "So... we're gonna make out more back at your place, right?" Derek looks at him, then, and his eyebrows are kind of screaming that Stiles is an idiot. "Right, stupid question."

Derek doesn’t say anything, but he’s going like ten over the speed limit.

"So that's a 'yes', right?"

The only advantage of Derek’s new car is that it leaves a hand free. He puts his hand, palm-up, on the center console, with his fingers slightly splayed. Stiles grins and takes the hint, and holds Derek’s hand all the way home.


End file.
